in Grade Two French Immersion. She is now a teenager in Grade 9, and I want you to know Carly how proud I am of you! I know how hard you always work and will continue to work, to be the very best you can be. I can't be around for you like I used to be when we lived in the same town, but that doesn't mean I care less. I do care about you and your future. It shines bright and I will do everything I can to help you make that future even brighter.
Today we hiked from Justo de la Vega outside Astorga, to Rabanal Del Camino, a distance of 26.2 km, and which took 8.5 hours.
Astorga is the most beautiful little town. It is absolutely spectacular. Spend as much time there as you can if you are in the area. I hope to return.
We have chocolate and churros in a cafe. They are delicious. Like Canadian beaver tails, but long and curly. You dip the hot, fried dough into this thick, creamy chocolate. To die for!
We are on a tight schedule, so we cannot linger, unfortunately. We stop at this little church, where I go say a short prayer, and have a short cry. I always do that in these small churches, for whatever reason. They are just so tiny, intimate and old; they invite solace, and comfort and sometimes that comfort can come in the form of quiet sobbing. On my part anyway. Always short lived. The Camino beckons. We must keep walking.
When Nancy stops to use the facilities of a cafe in Murias de Rechilvaldo, I take the opportunity to ask three young women if they want me to take their picture. They are enjoying a coffee in the sunshine. Well these three young Estonian women are good time P-A-R-T-Y girls. Maria, the videographer, never removes the videocamera from her face. She tapes me as I chat with the other two, Christa and Carmen, both of whom speak English very well. When I mention how I had prepared for the Camino, Carmen says "You have to prepare for the Camino? Well, I had my nails done and my fake eyelashes put on. Was there something else I should have done?" She is serious! Her nails are a work of art and so are the Tammy Faye Baker eyelashes!
Lucie continues on ahead and Nancy and I slow down. It is a typically cool, fall day and we are dealing with a headwind like we have not yet seen on the Camino. It is tough going at times.
We enter the village of Santa Catalina de Somoza, which has the prettiest entrance I have seen, and of which I posted a picture this morning. Just before entering the village we meet Bienvenido, a grandfather who makes walking sticks. He also does free publicity for his son's Albergue in the village. We promise him we will stop in there for refreshments. We do. Most Peregrinos stop a the first cafe or bar upon entering, so if you don't own that first rest place, you have to work that much harder to get the Peregrino business.
In the next pueblo, El Ganso, I am captivated by this hauntingly crumbling village. I stop to take pictures of an ancient abandonned home. We continue on and then coming around a bend, in the siesta time silence, we hear the sound of music, of a banjo. We both stop and listen, then continue around a flower covered wall, to find this "hippie" (no other word to describe him), strumming his banjo in the archway of a very old building. We stop once more, and buy a few lovely pieces of his handmade jewelry.
It is getting to be late mid-afternoon. We are tired and anxious to be in Rabanal.
We are fortunate enough to encounter some music a second time, as the sweet, nostalgic sounds of a harmonica waft through the air. This harmonica playing Peregrino comes level with us, and I thank him for the gift of music he has given us today, by saying a heartfelt thank you for it in seven languages. He smiles, nods and moves on.
Everyone moves on. We are alone on this very old pathway, and I notice that the barb wired fence on our right is covered with different crosses, all made with twigs and sticks. These crosses go on for several kilometers. I am suddenly struck by the thought that millions of people of great faith have walked this very path. They were pilgrims, who believed and left behind this proof of their faith. My throat gets tight, and I swallow hard. I have never said I was a pilgrim, or that I was doing a pilgrimage, because I would feel hypocritical doing that. However, for the first time since I began the Camino over three weeks ago, I feel this connection to the past.
We finally arrive at Rabanal. We are both exhausted and cold. Our room is delightful. We meet up with other Peregrinos, those interwoven threads that make up the fabric of our daily life on the Camio. Who is sitting having a drink, but our three good time PARTY Estonians, who have hooked up with a cute Frenchman. We all agree that there is no fun in being GOOD, as I stand at the bar waiting for a drink. I blog, and while doing this, find out I can get a foot massage. It is a real toss-up. Do I take a shower or get a foot message. Massage or shower? Massage or shower? I chose the massage. No regrets. I don't have time for both.
Nancy informed me this afternoon, during one of our stops, that she feels that the two most fit things on her when this Camino will be over, will be her jaws and her finger! I am so proud of her again, for putting in another big day of hiking.
We have a lovely supper in this magical village called Rabanal, and head off to bed. Tomorrow is another day .... of walking. How blessed I am to be doing this.
Goodnight Carly. Sleep tight sweetie!
With love and gratitude from Rabanal del Camino, Espana.
We have a lovely supper in this magical village called Rabanal, and head off to bed. Tomorrow is another day .... of walking. How blessed I am to be doing this.
Goodnight Carly. Sleep tight sweetie!
With love and gratitude from Rabanal del Camino, Espana.
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